You're Not Drunk
by nblg6
Summary: Sometimes, you should just blame it on the alcohol. Kyle/Cartman
1. Chapter 1

Story: You're Not Drunk

Author: nblg6

Pairing: Kyle/Cartman

Rating: M

Summary: Sometimes, you should just blame it on the alcohol. (Kyle/Cartman)

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park nor its carachters.

Author's Notes: Hey, guys. So...this is just something I wrote the other night, when I couldn't go to sleep. I don't even know if I'm gonna keep this a one shot or if I'll develop the story a little more. You tell me. :) Please review if you can, I really want to know your opinion! Take care and, without further adieu, I present to you, "You're Not Drunk".

* * *

"Kyle..." he whispers in the crook of my neck, trying to suck on it but much too drunk to do a minimally good job.

"Shut up." I manage out. He gets up on his elbows and rips my shirt off, running his nails up and down my abs, leaving thin trails of blood. "Motherfucker...stop it." I mumble, shutting my eyes in an attempt to shut the pain as well. The loud music busts my eardrums, sweat drips down my chin, alcohol invades my brain, and all I can see is white.

I fucking hate parties.

"Never." his voice echoes as he bites my ear way too hard.

"I'm serious, cut it off dude!" Just as I'm about to stab him with a nearby pen, the door slams open. The body on top of me barely moves an inch or two to get a glance around the room and throw up, passing out seconds later.

"Kyle...what the fuck are you doing?"

"Nothing, Cartman, just take me home." Much to my surprise, Cartman shrugs and walks through the door, helping me up when he reaches the bed.  
The ride home is pretty silent. There's a lot of traffic, because almost every street is closed due to some gay ass band that's playing this weekend.  
Though I can't call anyone gay in an offensive way, considering what I was just doing.

"Why were you about to fuck Stan?" Cartman asks coldly, clutching the steering wheel. I sigh.

"I don't know. I wasn't feeling very good and he came in and I...I don't know. We were drunk and-"

"You're not drunk." Cartman trails off, hissing as we pass yet another closed street.

"-and we just started to make out and...and then you came in. That's all."

"Why?" he presses. My arms fall to my sides as I breathe in deeply.

"I don't fucking know, Cartman! I was just horny! Still am, actually, so don't piss me off!" I blurt out, clasping my hand over my mouth harshly as I realize what I just said.

_Shit._

Cartman stares at me with lust in his eyes. What in hell have I done?

"You're...what?" he asks, choosing his words carefully. I swallow hard. It's no secret that Cartman is gay. He found out when he was, like, _eleven years old_.  
He never really made a big deal out of it, though. It was sort of amazing the way he dealt with the (few) bullies that picked on him. I stare at his face briefly. He lost a lot of weight during the past couple of years, and he's letting his hair grow, and he started working out in the summer...and I guess you can say he's a little hot. Little bit.

But the thing is: I don't know if _I'm _gay. I mean, if I'm having these thoughts about another guy, I must be, at the _very_ least, bisexual.

Though I was never _this_ aroused near a girl before. And Cartman isn't even touching me!

After all, I _was_ making out with my best friend twenty minutes ago.

"Nothing, just drive me ho-"

I gasp when Cartman bends over and presses his lips to mine, shoving his tongue inside my mouth.

It feels surprisingly good, considering this is, like, my fourth or fifth kiss in my whole seventeen years of living.

I suck on his tongue, his teeth grazing against my bottom lip lazily. I let out a moan.

Cartman runs his hands under my t-shirt, his fingertips ghosting over the bruises Stan gave me before. The thought hits me strong and I push Cartman away.

"What; too much action for just one night?"

He smirks and leans in again, this time tugging at the skin behind my ear with his teeth. I yelp, tangling my fingers in his hair.

"F-fuck you, Cartman." I breathe out. He kisses down my neck and back up towards my mouth, planting one firm, wet kiss to my lips. I sigh. He feels so fucking good pressing me against the car's door. It's...weird. But nice.

My phone rings when his fingers are undoing my zipper. I swallow another moan as I pick up, mentally kicking myself as soon as I do so.

"Hello?" I answer, irritated. Cartman slides my jeans down my legs. He sniggers when I gulp loudly.

"'Sup, bro?" oh, shit. It's Ike. "Where are you? Mom's flippin' a shit here."

"Okay, first of all, stop talking like a nigga." I hear Ike sigh. I try to yank Cartman's hands away from my boxers, but since I can only use one hand, he wins.

"Second of all..." my underwear join my pants on the car's floor. "Tell mom I'm f-fine. I'm coming home."

"You don't sound _fine_, dude. What's going on?" I try to say something, but Cartman's faster, taking my cock in his hand and stroking it slowly. I swallow hard. He sucks on my neck, making my body twist. This feels oddly amazing. "Kyle?" Ike asks. I moan, shutting my lips as soon as the sound comes out.  
Cartman laughs his throaty, sexy deep laugh and tightens his grip on my cock, making me shudder.

I must look so freaked out now. He gives my neck one last sloppy kiss, stroking me faster. I regain my sanity and press my phone tightly against my ear, trying hopelessly to close my legs. Cartman parts them again with ease.

"Ike? T-tell mom I'm- aah, tell her I'm..._I'm...coming_." I emphasize my words, hitting Cartman softly with my leg. He winks at me.

"Gotcha." he whispers before bending over and taking the head of my cock in his mouth, his tongue running over it. I moan and unwittingly buck up into his mouth. He adjusts his head, changing the angle and taking me further into his throat, to the point where I truly believe he's deep-throating me.  
I wonder how many times he's done this before...

"Kyle, are you...dude, gross! _Really_?" Ike yells in my ear, making me light headed. I can't bring myself to say anything, so I just mumble a 'whatever' and throw my cell phone aside.

"Shit, Cartman..." I trail off as his mouth meets the base of my cock. My eyes roll to the back of my skull.

"Come for me, Kyle." I moan deeply as he pulls away and finishes me off with his hand, licking his way up my neck. I come in his hand, sweat dripping down my face. He takes my lip between his teeth and tugs at it harshly, until we can both feel the taste of blood.

I sigh as I fumble around to try and find my phone. I pull my boxers and pants up as Cartman cleans his hands in the car seat. There's an awkward silence as the afterglow of my orgasm fades away slowly. When I feel like I can talk properly, I push the car's door open.

"Cartman...I'm just..." I start, but can't complete my sentence. He just stares at me.

"Kyle." I look up to meet his eyes. He gives my hand a last squeeze before leaning in. I feel his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers softly: "You're not drunk."

I hop out of the car, unable to think straight. I watch as his cars pulls out of my driveway until it's completely gone.

So...if I'm not drunk...

I'm definitely gay.

For Eric Cartman.

* * *

So...this is it. Did you like it? Hahahaha. And _please_ don't be mad at me for the little Stan/Kyle on the beggining of the fic; it was just some sort of introduction for the _real thing_. ;)

I understand that a few Kyman shippers don't really like Style, so don't hate me, please.

I'm not a big fan of that ship, either.

But don't worry, if I _do_ write another chapter, it will be Kyman centered! Promise!

X


	2. Chapter 2

Author's notes: Hey y'all. I'm _so so so so_ sorry for the wait! But I'll explain it. If you don't want to know the reasons, just scroll down and enjoy the new chapter (I feel like it sucks, but hopefully you'll like it).  
So, for those of you who are interested in my personal life *cough cough nobody cough cough*, I'm suffering of a bad case of writer's block. I wrote this chapter over twenty times (no kidding), and ended up deleting it twice. _Twice_. So yesterday at like, 3 in the morning, I wrote this. I hope you like it. I just hate to keep you waiting. Besides, I'm having a lot of issues on school.  
Have a nice time and don't forget to leave your feedback! Xo  
Oh, btw, my birthday's next Saturday (9/29)! Review as a gift? ;) thanks!

* * *

Being me isn't hard.

Living my life is.

Well, let me explain: being me is alright. I'm relatively handsome (from what I heard), I get great grades at school, my hair is much shorter and way better than it used to be (any signs of my Jew fro gone for good) and I'm in nice terms with myself.

Living my life, though, is a fucking hell. I have a stereotypical Jew pain in the ass mother, a brother who is seven years younger and smarter than me, a stupid dad, dumb as a rock teachers, and to seal the deal, a racist, Nazi son of a bitch 'friend' who gave me a blowjob at two in the morning yesterday, which means one thing: shit got 1792937 times more complicated.

I have absolutely no idea what I'm feeling. About Cartman, about myself, about other people, about anything.

I have no idea what I'm going to do.

Besides, of course, going to school. Nothing I can do about that.

Don't think I didn't try my best to stay home today though. But you don't have my mother, so you don't get to judge me.

I told her I had a fever and she made me get into a bath full of ice cubes to cool down my temperature when it's fucking freezing outside.

After that, I was slightly scared to fake any other symptoms. When I was figuring out a way of catching Chickenpox, dad yelled for me to go to the bus stop.

So I swallowed hard and walked out the door. Now I'm shaking and my hands are sweating a little bit, all because I'm afraid of seeing Cartman today.

The thought makes me frown. Hell, how bad could his reaction be? After all, _he_ sucked _me _off. It doesn't mean he likes me, right?

But most importantly, it doesn't mean _I_ like _him_, right?

Right?

"Kyle!" I stop dead in my tracks. It's Stan's voice. He has sunglasses covering his eyes and walks a little dizzily. Oh no. He's hungover. I totally forgot about the party. And about what happened in the party.

He probably hates me now. Probably thinks I'm a faggot. I should burn in hell. Oh my _God_, what if my mother finds out I made out with two of my friends? In _one night_? Fuck, she'd go nuts. Stan's probably nuts now. I'll probably get my nose busted open.

Oh well.

No. No, that's crazy. Stan wouldn't do that. Why am I thinking that? Stop it, brain!

"Kyle?"

"Uh, hey Stan." he looks terrified. I drop my backpack next to the bus sign and sigh. Here we go. "Look, dude-"

"I gotta talk to you." before I can answer, he clutches my arm and pulls me to the side, near some trees. "Just hear me out, okay? It's life or death!" I stare at him. Talk about drama.

"What?" I ask. He puts both hands on my shoulders, stilling my arms. I groan.

"So, yesterday Wendy decided she was too drunk to go home so I said I'd take her to my house and she could crash there since my parents weren't around. Alright, so we got to my place and we went up to my bedroom and one thing led to another and I fucked her and I'm think I got her pregnant."

My eyes widen unwittingly. Mostly because this subject is completely different than the one I thought he had in mind. Sucks for Wendy, though.

"Okay. Stan?" he looks at me. "Breathe." he does as he's told, taking huge, fake breaths dramatically. "So, first of all: did you wear a condom?" he nods. I drop my tensed shoulders. "Then why are you preoccupied?"

Stan rolls his eyes.

"'Cause she threw up right after it ended and she didn't stop until she vomited herself to sleep. And her boobs were a lot bigger in her shirt today when she was leaving earlier. And they didn't look that big yesterday when we were having sex."

My turn to roll my eyes.

"Dude...she threw up because she was drunk. And her boobs look bigger 'cause she pushes them up her chin and smashes them together with a magic bra or something. She is _not_carrying your kid." he sighs in relief. Stan smiles slightly.

"...yeah. Yeah, you're probably right. Thanks, man."  
I sigh, a little reluctant. It feels so good to do this. To pretend it never happened. Pretend we never almost hooked up.

Probably because that's what I'm used to. Pretending bad things never happened and move on. Just swiping the dirt under the rug. That's what my whole family's used to doing.

We never talk about that one time mom threw a party and caught Butter's dad making out with mine. That's how we work. Except, of course, when the crisis is about me; then, we can freak out. But when dad cheats on mom with another married guy (who is one of my friends' dad), we just ignore it.

That's mostly why it feels so weird to bring this up, but I have to. I suck in a deep breath and let it out through my nose.

"Look, Stan, about yesterday..." I trail off, hoping to God he gets what I'm saying. But of course he doesn't. "I think we should just drop it. You know? Just...forget it. Forget it ever happened."

He frowns.

"What'cha talking about?" my fingers ghost over the scars in my chest on their own accord. Huh?

"You don't...remember?" I try to control my voice so it doesn't sound like I'm hurt or anything.

"No...what 'never happened'?" his eyes suddenly widen. Oh. Of course I had to push it until he remembered! Fucking shit, why do I always fuck shit up? "Dude...did we do something, like, NC-17?"  
I roll my eyes at that, because really? I then force a laugh and punch his arm.

"You should've seen your face! You actually _bought it_?"

He lets out a breath and joins me as I pretend to laugh my guts out. Okay. He doesn't remember. God, he's really hungover. So, if I remember it (and yeah, I may deny it, but I remember all the details...unfortunately), that means I wasn't drunk at all?

"So Cartman was right, huh..." I whisper under my breath.

"What?"

"Oh. Nothing. Forget about it. Let's go, the bus' here." we shove ourselves inside the school bus, Kenny and fat ass meeting us inside. The moment I cast a glance at Cartman, I freeze.

Really.

I just froze in a spot here. The bus starts to move but I can't do the same. I'm just...paralyzed.

God, I never noticed how handsome Cartman actually is...his hair is just a little too big in the front, falling over his eyes and making him look sort of mysterious (which turned out to be weirdly sexy). He's wearing a plain gray t-shirt that's kind of large for him. I deduce he used to wear it when he was still a fat ass, what he's not anymore (that'll be his nickname for life though). He's lost a lot of weight since he started working out, a few months ago.

At first he hated it. His mom made him stop eating junk food and start lifting weight. Now he just does it himself. Partly because he liked the result and partly because his mom hardly has the time to take care of her son, considering of the job she has. His jeans hug his legs perfectly, getting slightly bigger in all the right places. And Cartman's old, beaten up Converse shoes? So freaking hot.

"You want a picture, Jew boy?" Cartman says, not looking up from his iPod, where he's currently playing Trigger Fist. When he dies in the game, and I don't answer (I'm still a little dumbstruck), he looks at me. "It lasts longer."

I sit down next to Kenny, staring blankly out the window. After a while I manage a "fuck you, fat ass", muttered under my breath. It all makes sense now.

All those girls always rubbing themselves against him, coming back every time he claimed to be gay (which he is, but they don't believe it, or choose not to), kissing him at parties, doing him favors...

A heat suddenly rises within me. It's undeniably jealousy. _Rage_.

I've never felt anything but total apathy for chicks from school. Except for shame, but that doesn't count.

But now I get it. He's secretly hot. Well, secretly for me, because apparently everybody already knows it.

How come I never noticed it before?

Is it because I'm too stuck in the past to actually recognize we all changed?

Or maybe...maybe I'm just blind to changes. With my cold, unstable family, maybe I just needed some part of my life that was safe, and forever will be. I mean, my friends are my second family. But they've changed. And so have I.

Maybe I just need time to stop.

So I can figure this all out.

So I can stare at him a little longer.

I mean, I've been glancing Cartman's way with the corners of my eye for what feels like decades now, but all I want is a full view.

Maaaaaybe without clothes this time.

* * *

A/N: Sooooo...did it suck trash? Sorry. :( I just HATED Stan's reaction but I couldn't figure anything else out! I just threw in some Stendy there (sort of to break the whole Style thing. I know a few of you didn't like that BUT THANK YOU FOR NOT HATING ME! Ha-ha). I feel like I disappointed all of you. Your opinion is really important for me. After all, you are my readers! But well, expect the other chapter somewhat sooner. Bye!


	3. WANNA BE MY FRIEND? c:

Hey you guys c: so, this is not an actual chapter (sorry!), but I wanted to ask you something: if you have any ideas, suggestions, questions, or just want to talk to me, add me on facebook ( juddnelsonishot), or follow me on tumblr (rraisins. I'll follow back!). Oh, btw, my facebook is on portuguese (my natural language), but I speak english (obviously :p), and I just really want to meet awesome people, and of course I think my readers are awesome, so if you wanna be my friend, add me on fb so we can talk through the chat and all.  
Thanks, see you (hopefully) soon! :~


End file.
